


Coq au Vin

by Goldmund



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Cannibalism, Drugs, F/M, M/M, Underage - Freeform, m/m - Freeform, sexual content in later chapters, violent behavior mentioned
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-04-29
Updated: 2013-04-29
Packaged: 2017-12-09 22:54:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,876
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/778904
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Goldmund/pseuds/Goldmund
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They didn’t choose their victim because she was running alone in the woods, but because she was quite the right size. Abigail wanted to prepare dinner for Hannibal for the very first time and she had decided that it had to be something very special - Coq au Vin.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Coq au Vin

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: Nothing belongs to me, but to Thomas Harris & Bryan Fuller.  
> Thanks goes to my lovely Beta Flurina.  
> It’s kind of a sequence to Initiation, but you don’t need to read Initiation to understand Coq au Vin.  
> I'd really appreciate some comments...just to know if anybody cares. :-)

„She almost got away, Abigail.“

„Don’t be so hard on me. It was only my second time.”

“Third.”

“Nicholas Boyle doesn't count."

///\\\\\/// 

She had practiced with her bow all week in the forest. Dr Bloom had been quite happy seeing her outside, taking strolls. Of course, she didn’t know that Abigail had buried her father’s bow. She loved that lightweight red bow, made of hard plastic with 2 archery target faces and a set of aluminum arrows that weren’t heavy to carry either. It fitted her draw length perfectly. It was the perfect weapon for her: light, silent and elegant. 

Hannibal had been too severe with her after their hunt. She hold the opinion that she had been really precise and fast this time. The woman hadn’t had much time to struggle, scream or run away. She couldn’t have done it anyway, since Hannibal had pressed his palm against her mouth that had been torn open – stricken with fear. The blonde woman’s eyes had stared at her with so much horror, which had made her feel surprisingly powerful. She had wanted to savor every second of it, but Hannibal had ended it very quickly. He had given her an imperious look that had tolerated no dissent. Thereupon, Abigail had grabbed the hunting knife from the sheath which had been fixed to her belt and had run it into the prey’s carotid artery. It had taken only seconds until the light in the woman’s eyes had died, leaving her to be an immovable piece of meat in a pool of crimson red. 

They didn’t choose their victim because she was running alone in the woods, but because she was quite the right size. Abigail wanted to prepare dinner for Hannibal for the very first time and she had decided that it had to be something very special - Coq au Vin*.

Despite Alana’s and Hannibal’s dispute about Abigail leaving the hospital, Hannibal had made arrangements with the weekend shift at her hospital room or jail, as she liked to call it - the place she didn’t want to be and where she experienced nightmares night after night after night. 

She didn’t know how Hannibal had convinced the staff to keep their mouths shut, but it had worked out fine so far. Dr Bloom had no clue where Abigail was spending her weekends. The annoying psychiatrist had a so called love interest in New Jersey that made her go away over the weekends, so Hannibal and she didn’t have to be afraid of unexpected visits. At the beginning of their friendship it was almost disturbing to Abigail how much she longed to be back together with Hannibal. The weeks didn’t pass fast enough. On Fridays she got more excited, impatient and reluctant to everything around her until she was finally back in her safe haven. 

Abigail stood behind the counter in Hannibal’s spacious and well-assorted kitchen, reading through the list of ingredients for their dinner.  


Ingredients: 

2 cups red wine  
1 cup yellow onion (chopped)  
1 cup carrot (chopped)  
1 tsp salt  
1 tsp dried thyme  
12 tsp dried rosemary (crushed)  
12 tsp black pepper (freshly ground)  
16 ozs breasts halves (chicken, skinned)  
8 ozs chicken thighs (skinned)  
8 ozs chicken drumsticks (skinned)  
12 cup all-purpose flour (2 14 ounces)  
3 bacon (slices chopped)  
12 cup dried plum (pitted, quartered)  
2 bay leaves  
fresh parsley (chopped, optional)

She checked the shopper basket and smiled with relief. She had thought of everything. Hannibal wouldn’t consider Coq au Vin to be a challenging dish, but for Abigail it was certainly something to start with. She wasn’t the cook at home, back in the days, when she lived with her mom and dad. She was responsible for hunting, but to prepare their dinner, human or not, rested on her parents. 

Abigail acted in her guardian’s kitchen like she already knew it inside out. Partially, that was true. She had studied Hannibal’s every move when he had prepared their dishes over the last weeks. So Abigail had learned where he was keeping his chrome steel pots, Japanese knives, porcelain dinnerware, oriental spices and cutting boards made of bamboo. She admired his conception of tidiness and perfectionism. To Hannibal hunting and cooking weren’t sport and a craft, but forms of art. He was an artist, not a butcher nor a craftsman and that was the reason why Hannibal insisted on her to be not compared to her father. He had been nothing more than a slaughterer. He had known nothing about the aesthetic value that included cooking as an art form. Even hunting and killing was art for Hannibal. It was the art of ending someone’s life. It could be an intoxicating experience, she knew that now. 

Hannibal had his own cooling chamber in his basement. It was an important place for the process of preparing the meat. They hadn’t brought the entire corps, only the parts that were needed. They had buried the rest of the woman’s body deep in the woods. It was the first time Abigail had been completely calm. Hannibal had made her a cup of tea of psychedelic mushrooms before they had gone to the Liberty Reservoir. It was Sunday and she had spent the night at his place. Abigail didn’t have bad dreams in Hannibal’s house. She slept as good in his bed as in her own if not better. His pillows, blankets and sheets were exquisite. It felt like velvet on her skin. Everything in Hannibal’s home smelt always clean and fresh.

They didn’t have intercourse lately. Sex had become less and less frequent during the last couple of weeks. Instead, they made trips to the woods. They found their satisfaction of needs mostly in hunting their prey and the sharing of the killing and consuming experience rather than in sexual activities. Hannibal had only ever initiated one of their sexual encounters anyway. Abigail knew he caved in to her desires apart from their very first time, which had been the only time that she had felt his need for their unification in a physical way. And although she sometimes missed their physical connection, she generally liked their relationship mainly being defined by an interaction a father would have to his daughter. Still, today was one of those days where she yearned for his touch.

She made her way to the library to look for another cook book about French cuisine. She wanted to make sure everything she was going to do would be the right way of preparing their meal. Abigail didn’t want to ask, so she knocked at the door and waited for his approval to enter his sanctum.

He looked up at her with an unreadable expression, when she passed his desk and walked over to the book shelves in the back of the room near the large windows. One section of Hannibal’s library consisted of cooking books from all over the world. There were hundreds of them from several countries in Europe and Asia. Most of the shelves were filled with Chinese and South American cook books. The books about French cuisine were still manageable. When she had found the book she had been looking for, Abigail went back to where Hannibal was sitting and paused behind his chair. 

She placed a hand on his shoulder and whispered: “Are you hungry?”

Hannibal stopped writing: “Not terribly. May I invite Will for dinner?”

Abigail was already nervous to cook for Hannibal, but to have another guest for dinner. She felt like that was too much pressure.

“Um…”, she didn’t want to sound inordinately anxious. 

“You’re worrying too much, Abigail. I’m utterly convinced your dish will be more than appropriate.”

Abigail nodded, though he couldn’t see her, he knew that she understood that she had no say in the matter. His question was more like a nice gift wrapping, symbolizing his courtesy, but admitting no contradiction to his plans that were already written in stone. She couldn’t quite name her feelings for Will Graham. She felt comfortable around him, even though she was jealous of him at the same time. Hannibal’s thoughts revolved constantly around the handsome troubled man. Sometimes Hannibal appeared to be in a melancholic mood – she even could see a certain kind of sadness in his eyes. 

“Which dinnerware do you want me to use?”

“The Convivio Dinner Plates will serve the purpose quite well.”

“Won’t it be a problem…I mean me being here with you?” 

Abigail’s hand started to wander rather aimlessly from Hannibal’s shoulder to the hairline at his neck, where her fingers started to play with his dark-brown hair strands.

“I don’t think so. Generally, Will and I have the same expert opinion concerning your proper treatment. He also sees no harm in taking you out of the hospital for a while. We’ll be fine.”

Hannibal seemed to ignore her touch. Abigail didn’t know why she was disappointed about it.

“Last night, I had a dream. It wasn’t a nightmare.” 

“Do you want to share it with me?”

“I don’t want you to be upset.” She didn’t stop, but kept caressing his neck.

“How could I be upset when it wasn’t a nightmare? I’d be very fond to hear about pleasant dreams of yours.”

“I dreamed about us: Will, you and me being a family.” 

Mind-games were her specialty, though she wasn’t sure he’d see right through her lie this time. When it came to Will, Hannibal often seemed distracted.

“It’s an important step into the right direction, Abigail. Having positive thoughts about family means your trauma doesn’t make you reject family values in general. That is very good.” 

Abigail bent down and whispered into his ear: “How would you like us being a family?”

“Are we manipulative today?”

Abigail smiled. 

“Very well, I’ll go back to the kitchen then.”

“Excellent, I’ll phone Will. I’ll inform you of his decision shortly.”

Abigail let go off his neck and made her way back to the door.

“He’ll come, Hannibal. It’s been three days since his last session with you. I’m sure he misses you, too.” 

With that she stepped out and closed the door behind her.

End of chapter 1/?

*Coq au Vin (slightly varied recipe): Combine first 10 ingredients in a large bowl; cover and marinate in refrigerator at least 4 hours or up to 24 hours. Remove the chicken/ human thighs (skinned) from marinade, reserving marinade, and pat chicken/human dry. Place flour in a shallow dish. Dredge the chicken/human in flour; set aside. Cook bacon in a large Dutch oven over medium-high heat until crisp. Remove bacon from pan, reserving drippings in pan; set bacon aside. Add half of chicken/human thigh to pan; cook 4 minutes, browning on all sides. Remove chicken/human thigh from pan. Repeat procedure with remaining chicken limbs. Remove onion and carrot from marinade with a slotted spoon, reserving marinade. Add onion and carrot to pan; sauté for 5 minutes or until softened. Stir in marinade, scraping pan to loosen browned bits. Add chicken/human limb, bacon, dried plums, and bay leaves; bring to a simmer. Cover, reduce heat, and simmer 1 hour and for 20 minutes or until chicken/human is tender. Discard bay leaves. Garnish with parsley, if desired.


End file.
